


Need You Now

by purplemoonabove



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Been reading a lot lately, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Hope You Guys Would Too, I Love What I Wrote, I have been thinking about this scene, Liked what I wrote down, Rewritten Scene, Where Branch confesses why he won't sing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplemoonabove/pseuds/purplemoonabove
Summary: For those who watched Trolls, remember that scene where Branch refuses to sing?I thought about that scene, but my mind changed to the lines. It had the scene deep for an adult's point of view, then a child's. This entire story is in Poppy's point of view from the beginning to the end, before the trolls created the rainbow hair for Bridget.
Relationships: Branch/Poppy (Trolls)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Need You Now

**Author's Note:**

> Since the beginning of the new year, I haven't been writing at all. I felt my writing needed to improve, and to do so I begun reading fiction books and I'm still doing so at the moment.
> 
> (To anyone who's curious, I've read and finished the Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer, and I'm currently reading The Moral Instruments Book #1: City of Bones I borrowed from the library. Malec clips from Shadowhunters had me interested in it lol. Hope to read the whole series soon.)
> 
> I've noticed the improvement in my mentality, and to show my approval, I am uploading my first story of 2020.
> 
> Although, it's a story based from the Trolls movie instead of from Voltron. I will be thinking about my Miraculous Ladybug Klance AU stories soon; as well, focusing on new chapters on a story involving Brick/Momoko from Demashita! Powerpuff Girls Z on my fanfiction account, avatarinuyasha.
> 
> I'm excited to see this new change increase my love for writing, and possibly have a chance to become an author sooner than much later.
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys had a good evening today, and thank you for reading this new story.

* * *

“Branch, you have to sing!” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

“No, you can. You just won’t.” 

“ _Fine._ I won’t.” 

Poppy can feel a growing of a groan coming from the back of her throat. Must Branch be so stubborn? It’s so simple! 

“You have to!” 

“No!” 

She can feel the desire to pull at her pink hair, but held back. 

“Yes!” 

“ _No!_ ” 

“Why _not_ _?!_ Why won’t you sing?!” 

“Because singing is the reason my grandma was **KILLED**!” 

Silence filled the room. Tension filled the room in a blink of an eye. The yell caused Bridget to stop crying. Her attention, along with the trolls’ now that she stopped, went up to the window. There, they could see the frozen shock Poppy and the annoyed Branch. 

No. Not annoyed. 

_Rage_. 

He was filled with rage, the emotion blazing at her. Eyes were widened and overflowing on said emotion. Nose was flaring. Teeth were gritting before his lips relaxed into a frown. His eyes followed with a glare, one that had the tension thicken. His words were soft, but not with care or even shyness. It was with a venom she never knew was possible to make. “Now, do yourself a favor— _leave me alone_.” 

He walked away from her, no longer keep eye contact to her own widened and paralyzed eyes. Poppy never heard such hatred, such pain before. Not even when the trolls had to go through a reminiscence ceremony once a year, to never forget the trolls they have lost before Poppy’s birth. Including her mother. 

It has now occurred to her on not thinking that before, as one of the reasons on Branch’s refusal on everything, not just today. 

She lost her mother, but she was too young to remember, and she had her father the entire time when she grew up. She never experienced such a loss before, not even with a friend in the village—and it was a large village alone. Guilt began to warm her up, her body relaxed and later drooped a tad. Once her mind functioned on being mobile again, she turned over to him and the sight was also rare to her to witness. He was sitting beside the window with his arms holding his legs close to his chest. He didn’t hide his face. His chin rested upon the bent knees as his eyes were darted direct to the floor. They weren’t even bother by the glare of sunlight from the window, as it rested on him. 

Poppy’s heart ached at the clear sight of his expression. No rage. No annoyance. Not even sadness. It was... bare. Lifeless. His lips were a natural line. His ears drooped from the tips. And his eyes. They troubled Poppy the most. There were hardly any emotions in his eyes. Barely a hint of recognition towards the sunlight, let alone towards her. If it weren’t for the breathing of his body lifting and exhausting, she would have thought he was... Not there. But he was, and it was filled with no colorful flame within him. As if, he was acting out the defeat from the past, only worse now. 

It was distressing to confirm his expression adapted with his current gray skin. 

It was a sight that actually scared her, more than the chef’s attack during the party. She was debating to stay where she was, or go up to him. But she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t leave anyone who was down. She was willing to give anyone who needed a hug, or a shoulder to rest on. Of course, Poppy was aware that doing such actions would have him push her away, but... She just can’t stand someone so... so... 

Broken. 

She didn’t realize Poppy was right in front of him until she forced herself to stop, without changing the concern on her face. As of now, they were a foot or so apart. Her focus towards him made her oblivious to her—their friends, joining them but also keeping their distance with Bridget. 

“How...” She paused, focusing on the right words. “How did your grandma die? What song was she singing?” 

His eyes focused on the space between them. It could be because he barely moved them when she came up to him. Seconds of silence was done, growing the anticipation and worry over the gray troll. And who could blame her—she was witnessing a troll that refused to open to anyone, not even a welcoming princess like herself. 

“I was the one that was singing.” 

Her eyes widened in surprise. For the confession or his flat and beaten tone or both, she wouldn’t know. 

He did sing before. 

The key word: _before_. 

Silence returned to the room, listening with the trolls and the servant maid as Branch told his melancholy story. How he was so lost in song that he was oblivious to his surroundings. He didn’t notice the Bergen, coming towards him. He didn’t hear his grandma, shouting out her warnings and running towards him. And by the time he did, it was too late. His grandma pushed him out of the way, causing him to fall from the branch to the ground below. At the same time, his grandma was taken away from the troll tree, from Branch’s life forever. 

During his speaking, he got up and looked over the view ahead. His hand rested on the glass, as if sensing the memory as a physical form through the gentle sunlight. The feel of the light on him like his personal spot light. Only to be a shadow of the past, witnessing who was most important be taken away from his reach. 

Her heart ached at the sight, and later on an idea of a terrible fulfillment—singing will be a reminder to him than a pleasure. To never forget what happened. What was done. 

**What was his fault.**

_Once upon a time_

_There was light in his life;_

_Now, there’s only_

_Love in the dark_

If it weren’t for the trolls, singing the song he last sung, she would have imagined the voices in her mind. What Branch would have sounded. And how much it would have hurt more. 

_Nothing he could say..._

“ _A total eclipse of the heart._ ” Bridget’s voice finished, her vocal waves brushing the tips of her pink hair like a close wind. She ignored the hint of whatever she ate to continue speaking. 

“I haven’t sung a note since,” he finished, the dullness was still there and impairing her heart into further cracks. 

“I’m so sorry, Branch,” Poppy confessed. “I had no idea. I just–” Assume you had a terrible voice; she was going to say but held it back. It didn’t seem appropriate, even if it was her truthful belief. “I just assume you didn’t love to sing,” she then said. 

An almost inaudible sound came from Branch, sounding either a scoff or a humored click of his tongue. Her eyes then caught sight of the reflection at the window. She caught on a glimpse that threw her off. 

A smile. On Branch’s face. 

She concentrated longer until it caught up to her. The smile was, too, emotionless. It held no meaning of happiness whatsoever. Not even a sense of his original cockiness and motivation to save their friends. Nothing at all. He turned to her, that smile remaining with his hand dragging down and away from the windows. The sight pierced her heart like a sharp needle’s abrupt puncture. 

It felt as if she was talking to the shell of his former self. 

“What’s the point of loving a blessing, when you know you’re a curse?” 

Someone gasped behind her, and Poppy was sure she heard the final cracking of her heart. 

She was also sure her pink skin dimmed, but only a little. 

Poppy never felt so useless. So cracked. So lost. She didn’t know what to do to get rid—no, to _mend_ his wound. It was the deepest trauma she ever acknowledged, a wound that can never seal up as long as Branch kept opening it as his constant reminder. It will continuously have him know that what happened was his fault, when it really wasn’t. He was having fun, unaware of the danger until the last minute. It wasn’t his intentions to lose her, but he believed it. He kept the false truth through his years; thus, creating the being he becoming. 

The gray troll that distanced himself from everyone. 

The damaged troll that constantly warned them about the Bergens’ arrivals. 

The silent troll that refused to sing anymore. 

Poppy can remember herself, months before this moment, that she was sure on getting Branch to be happy, and that it will be easy as cutting a piece of cake. She never done it before, but she would scold herself for thinking so shallow on the manner. For thinking it was so simple without seeing how indifferent Branch became due to his past. For not even imagining how easy it is to cut a heart, too. 

_And I need you now tonight_

_I need you now..._

_Need..._

She won’t let it. She won’t let the knife cut her up. This was something she never experienced, and she was secretly glad to see it. Poppy was the future queen of the trolls, and everyone’s happiness was her main concern. It was a challenge, she will admit, but one she refused to fall at her knees in defeat. If she managed to make it from the village to the castle, then she will take on against this. 

It will take time, no doubt, but she will get Branch back up again. 

With that in mind, a gentle smile managed to come on her face and her arms spread out as she walked up to him for high interest of a hug. The sight caused his smile to fade, and have an eyebrow raised when she did it. 

“Woah, woah. What are you doing?” He disturbed the warming moment, but she ignored it. “It’s not hug time.” 

“I just thought you needed one.” One that has been long overdue, she thought as she closed her eyes and concentrated on the hug. He didn’t hug back, but she can feel the tension deflating within the seconds. It wasn’t long before their friends joined in and create it as a group hug with sounds of content—no doubt she wasn’t the only one who felt her heart soothing the aches away. Even Bridget joined in on the hug. 

Now, that’s something she could write in a history book. 

“Okay, okay!” Branch then interrupted the hug by breaking away, uncomfortable. The shell Poppy saw brought the flame back. She actually was grateful to see the gravity and irritation clear in his eyes and tone. Poppy wouldn’t say it out loud, obviously. 

It was better this way, and hopefully she can help to make an even better Branch. 

“I’ll help you. But I’m still not singing!” He declared, pointing at Poppy for no more arguments, an end of their discussion. She respected it with a smile. 

She was a princess, tasked with multiple missions. Heading to the castle. Saving her friends. Helping Bridget on gaining a date with the king. Saving Creek. Returning home with no troll eaten. And, now added to the list, becoming friends with Branch without failing on each decline he’ll give. She will get through it all. 

The world is full of cupcakes and rainbows. No one was going to rain on her luck today. 

“Alright then! Hair. We. Go!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> And if you guys thought Poppy seemed a little OOC, I'm sorry. The Lunar Chronicles may have cause me to write her more mature than shown in the film, but I tried to make her exact or at least similar.


End file.
